


Lost And Gone

by TrifectaIII



Category: Homestuck
Genre: By Dima, i have no idea if this is any good honestly, implied suicide, pls give feedback im begging u
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 17:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12370374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrifectaIII/pseuds/TrifectaIII
Summary: Bro Strider has never felt much, never shown much, never expressed himself much. But right now, he feels too much.He wishes things had gone differently.aka: author is terrible at summaries, bro has a bit of introspection, nostalgia, and regret.





	Lost And Gone

**Author's Note:**

> "sinking" by feverkin ft. Nori
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7o5jGiLeVB8

Bro Strider has never been one for emotions. At least not the visible kind. 

Not when his baby bro was born, not when he had to escape with him, not when they were on the streets doing anything for their next meal, not even when Dave almost died as a baby. Maybe that makes him a bad brother, but he always tried his best to get him anything he needed. Sometimes it wasn't enough, but no one could ever say Bro didn't give a damn, not the people who knew him. 

Their lives had been hard until the day bro started making ends meet with whatever odd jobs he could get. Finally Dave had a roof over his head that was definitely going to stay there for more than three months. Finally they had enough food for both of them, Dave started putting on weight, and Bro started looking less emaciated. Finally they had enough money to be at least comfortable. Definitely still poor and often broke, but they didn't have to wonder if they could eat tomorrow. It was exhausting, but worth it. Eventually Bro had gotten enough traffic to one of his pay sites he'd made for some extra cash that he could quit one of the other jobs he had, which gave him more time to sleep and take care of Dave. But by this point Dave had already learned to be relatively self sufficient, even rejecting Bros company half the time, not knowing how to talk to him since he was always out and distant. He was definitely not the healthiest boy, not mentally or physically, for this Bro felt terrible, but it was the circumstances of their lives and there wasn't much he could do besides do what he could to make sure they stay relatively comfortable.

Every day had been the same. Bro gets up to go to work at the crack of dawn, Dave gets up and (maybe) goes to school on the bus, Bro gets home from his two jobs past midnight and spends most of the night holed away in his room working on his pay sites. He didn't like to think of himself as neglectful, but emotionally and physically he wasn't available enough. He knew Dave sought out attention and stability from other people. He didn't really mind much, if it meant Dave had someone there for him more than he could be it was alright by him. Dave had managed to make some friends, and stayed at their houses often, texting bro whenever he wouldn't be home that night so he wouldn't freak out. 

Bro usually checked in on Dave when he got home from work, and the first time he wasn't there Bro blew up Daves phone with texts and multiple phone calls, but Daves phone was on silent and he was playing video games with John so he didn't get them, and never answered. When he got home the next night he was greeted by a worried sick older brother and a bear hug. He'd called into work sick that day. Bro had lectured Dave that night about always letting him know when he wasn't going to be home, he was allowed to stay over at his friends places whenever he wanted, as long as Bro knew where he was in case anything went wrong. It took a few times of his forgetting to text and the same thing happening before he remembered reliably. 

Bro sighed and leaned back in his chair. He knew he hadn't been a very good brother, But he didn't know what else he could have done. Maybe if he'd stayed with their parents... No. That would have been horrible, and Dave would be much worse off. He'd have never been able to make any friends, the money either of them had managed to make would have been taken by their 'parents' for other things. He'd have grown up paranoid and possessive. Bro had known that when he took him, and didn't want that life for him. Sure this one hadn't been much better, but at least he had the freedom to be who he needed to be, and have his own things and time and privacy. All things Bro knew he wouldn't have gotten if they'd stayed.

But still, Maybe if they'd stayed Dave would still be alive.

That was one thing he'd shown his true emotions about. The one thing that got through his hard exterior. 

Rubbing his eyes beneath his shades he stood up. He didn't want to think of this right now. He glanced around the room he basically hadn't left in a month. It was filthy. There were clothes everywhere despite him rarely changing, piles of empty beer and soda cans in the corners. Half empty take-out containers with a dusting of mold collecting around his bed and desk. He knew he should clean soon, but he couldn't bring himself to do much of anything. He brought his shirt to his nose and sniffed. Gross. Maybe he'd at least do some laundry and open a window, it smelled like B.O in there, and he was kind of marinating in that shit.

As he wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water he caught a glimpse of Daves bedroom door. His jaw tightened and he looked pointedly away. He couldn't even LOOK at where his little bro used to sleep, let alone go in there, so the entire room was untouched. It had become a shrine in the few short months its been since hes been gone, left exactly as he'd left it. Maybe in the naive hope that he'd come back. The only difference was that now there were a few boxes more in the closet filled with the stuff Dave had left around the apartment. Bro had originally meant to leave it out as a reminder of his baby brother, but after a couple weeks it proved to be too much and he hid it away. He did, however, mount Daves sword on the wall in the living room. He would have gotten it engraved but that seemed a little too extra, not to mention he'd rather keep his sword exactly as it was. 

It was kind of a lie that that was the ONLY thing he'd left out of Daves. When he went to put the boxes in the closet he spotted one of the christmas ornaments Dave had made as a kid. It was shitty and most of the glitter had worn off, but the important part was still there. It was a small decorated frame with a pipe cleaner loop on top to hang it on the tree with, with a small faded picture of Bro and Dave with santa. He'd taken it out of the closet and looked at it for ages, remembering the time he had scraped together enough money to go to the mall and get a picture. Dave had really wanted to go see santa, Bro remembered what he'd asked for. 

Stopping just before he went into the kitchen he stared at the little ornament. He'd hung it off the handle of Daves sword. Sighing, he watched the three small people smiling out of the makeshift frame at him twist back and forth slowly as the neighbors above him walked around their living room. He tore his eyes away and went to the fridge and pulled out the jug of water. Honestly it was surprising he had kept up with keeping it full. Everything else in the fridge was either rotting or gone, he hadn't gone grocery shopping in quite some time. 

How had it happened. It wasn't instantly, but the memory of the catalyst was mostly a blur. He'd gotten a phone call from Mr. Egbert, there had been rushed small talk, but the only thing he remembered was "Daves in the hospital, it's critical". 

Bro had barely processed the name of the hospital before he was flying down the stairs and hopping into his truck. He still remembers the panic that hit him like a ton of bricks when he got the phone call. Something about Mr.Egberts voice hadn't been quite right.

The ride there was a smudge in his mind, nothing but emotions and hazy visuals of locations. He was sure he almost crashed into other cars like three times, it's a wonder he wasn't pulled over.

"It's critical"

Bro realized he'd been standing there holding the jug of water for the past 15 minutes, staring into space. He shook his head slightly and poured himself a glass, putting the jug back in the fridge. It was full enough still, no need to refill it.

Sipping the cold water he decided to stay in the living room for a bit. A change of pace. 'Ha, kind of pathetic that THAT'S a change of pace.' He thought. But either way, it was good to get out of his dark room. The bulb had died a week ago and he hadn't bothered to change it, he liked the dark anyway. The air felt a little stagnant, so he went and opened the only window in the room before he sat down. It overlooked the city, right now the sun was hanging low in the sky. How long had he been awake? When did he wake up? He can't remember, honestly he didn't think he looked at the time at all anymore. He mostly used the computer to write code he'd never use for a robot he hadn't build, scroll endlessly through his dashboard, to look through his pictures, and to scroll through Daves social media, and his alarm clock lay forgotten in a pile of clothes.

He watched the sun glint off the windows of buildings before turning away from the window and sitting on the couch. Where the fuck was the remote? Bro dug around in the cushions for a second before spotting it on the floor half under the couch. There was nothing on, so he just flipped it to cartoon network. 

Bro thought back to when he arrived at the hospital. He'd barged in the doors and demanded to see his little brother. The nurses had to threaten to kick him out to get him to calm down, and told him that he couldn't see him until they gt him stable. Something about head trauma, something about OD. He vaguely remembers Mr.Egbert being there. He thinks they nodded at each other. John was there too. He seemed fine physically, but there was something off about him. He looked like he was about to throw up for multiple reasons, he looked incredibly worried, and definitely not sober.

The wait lasted forever. The fluorescent lights and sterile environment had made him feel like he was going to go nuts. Everyone seemed to be too calm and too emotional at the same time. Finally, a nurse came out to tell Bro that Dave was stable, but in bad shape, and that bro could see him now. He was warned that Dave wasn't awake yet, and that he might not wake up soon. He didn't care, he just wanted, no, needed to see his baby brother. He got in the room they'd moved him to and saw Daves limp unconscious body, arms covered in tubes and thick gauze wrapped around his head, and dark bruises around his eyes. Bro pulled the chair next to the bed as close as he could and collapsed into it, leaning against the edge of the bed and holding Daves hand gingerly. He remembered the way his face seemed too blank, except for the small crease between his eyebrows. At least he was warm, at least he was warm.

Bro waited there by his side for days, sleeping in the chair next to the bed. At one point he'd gotten a neck pillow so he wouldn't cramp up so much. They monitored Dave constantly. John came by a few times too. Every day that went by Bro was simultaneously more relieved and more scared. He was still alive, but still asleep. They'd told him what had happened, It was a party, they said. John had been there too and told them the whole thing. How Dave had had too much to drink, and done some drugs. Stimulants, the doctors said. They had to pump his stomach because he'd gotten alcohol poisoning without realizing. They also said not realizing was a side effect of taking stimulants while drinking. They explained it better, but Bro forgot. Apparently Dave had fallen backwards, no one was sure why, and hit the back of his head on the table. Everyone heard the thunk, they'd hoped he would get up and laugh it off, but he wasn't moving. John told Bro he was the one to call 911 once he noticed a puddle of blood forming under Daves head.

He stared at the T.V screen in his living room, not really seeing the cartoon playing. He didn't thank john for calling 911, He'd forgotten. It all seemed useless now. Dave was gone anyway. A few times one of the Egberts had called, but after being ignored each time, they stopped. A few other people had called, or came to his door. He'd ignored all of them too. Soon everyone took the hint that he wanted to be left alone. Every week or so John would email him a picture of something, like a memorial, a pic of himself and Dave. Occasionally Bro would respond with a short 'thanks'. He figured that was his way of letting others know he was still alive.

After the credits on the current cartoon finished rolling, Adventure Time started playing. He and Dave liked this show. They rarely watched it together, but sometimes Dave posted something about it on his facebook, or reblogged a post about it on tumblr. He'd been watching an episode idly at Daves bedside when he'd woken up. Out of the corner of his eye bro had noticed Daves eyelids fluttering. He remembers being so excited, his baby brother was back, he was awake. He remembers pulling off his shades, maybe he was crying. Soon Dave was sitting up and himself, mostly. He seemed disoriented, but that was to be expected. At least he was awake and alive. 

Bro grumbled and flipped off the T.V. Yeah. Alive. Not anymore, and it was his fault. Even to begin with. If he hadn't been so distant, maybe taught him some things. Like never mix stimulants and alcohol, never drink and do drugs at the same time in general, pace yourself, etc. Maybe if he'd been more present he wouldn't have had to go to as many parties. Bro knew he went to them often, he posted about them online. there were pictures from them on his now memorialized facebook.

Everything was looking so good. Dave had been getting better, been walking around, complaining about his headache. He was even back to his usual quips and sarcasm. They wanted to keep him a little longer for observation, but you two convinced them to let him go home, saying being back in a familiar environment would help him recover mentally. The doctors told you how to care for him until he was back completely, signs to watch out for, and instructed you to take him in for a check up every two weeks.

And then he was finally home.

Bro stood up and stretched, his shoulders and back popping. He hadn't gotten his mail in ages, it wasn't too far of a trip, just down the elevator to the lobby. He passed an old lady on the way down, she smiled at him. He recognized her as the lady who always gave Dave the big candy bars on Halloween when he was a kid, so he smiled halfheartedly back. When he got to the mailbox, it was full. The guy behind the desk spotted bro and got his attention. 

"Hey! Dirk, you're outta your cave, there's more mail than that. Lemme get the box" he said grinning. Bro thought his name was Craig or something, couldn't remember. When maybe-Craig came back he slid a shoebox onto the counter labeled 'apt. 57'. "Here it is, got some admirers yea?" Bro grunted out a thanks, and grabbed the box, leaving as quickly as he came. 

When he got back to his apartment, he sat on the couch to sort through the box of mail. There wasn't really that much, most of the bulk was fliers and stuff, but there were a decent amount of letters of condolence, as well as well wishes for bro, and "get well soon"s from fans of Dave who sent it before they'd gotten the news. 

The news. It had come to shock to even Bro, considering he'd been out buying fucking groceries. He'd loaded up on all of Daves favourite foods he could afford, and even rented a movie he thought they'd both like. He remembered a text he got from Dave, he said he had 'a huge fuckin headache', bro responded he'd be back in a sec, that he was on his way back to the car in fact. But he was gone too long, when he got home the first thing he saw was Dave laying motionless on the floor, immediately he'd dropped the groceries and rushed to his side, checking for a pulse that wasn't there. 

Bro rested his head in his hands. Why did he keep torturing himself thinking about this? Why couldn't he get on with his life? Why couldn't he keep going like any other human would have? Maybe because it was his fault. He wasn't there enough for him, never taught him the important things, and god knows the american education system is shit. It was even his fault in the end. Bro had done some research afterwards, reading everything he could about subarachnoid haemorrhages, apparently he might have been able to save him if he'd been there, seen the signs, and called the ambulance, or if he hadn't even helped convince the doctor to let him go home in the first place. 

It was his fault, and now he had hospital bills and overdue rent notices staring him in the face and nothing to show for it. No little brother, no friends, nothing. Dave was gone and he'd let it happen. He'd lost his jobs, let his pay sites stagnate, traffic was way down. He was barely scraping enough money together for food at this point, there was no way he'd be able to pay all those bills.

Shoving all the letters and bills and fliers off the bed he walked to the bathroom and drew a bath. He wasn't thinking, if he did he'd stop. He remembered Daves face. His red eyes scrunched in laughter, cheeks flushed and healthy. He thought back to every happy moment they've ever had. From when he was a baby, giggling and babbling to no end and playing with Bros shades, to when he brought Dave home for that last time, the relieved stretch, the smirk he'd shot Bro. "Ha, was almost killed by a table. Imagine the tombstone." 

As the water filled up and the mirror steamed, Bro thought some more. He'd done all he could for Dave, but it wasn't enough. He did everything short of selling his body, and even did that if you counted porn clips. It just wasn't enough, he couldn't protect him. 

"I'm so sorry, Mr.Strider"

"My condolences"

"He was such a good boy, I'm sorry for your loss" 

All of it meant nothing. By failing Dave and not protecting him better, not teaching him better, not only did he ruin his baby brothers life and his own, but Daves best friends lives as well. Especially john. At the funeral he'd been the one crying the loudest. Bro wondered why he hadn't been, all he'd felt was numb. 

Bro twisted off the water and stripped down to his boxers. He'd rather be a little decent. Slipping into the water, he grabbed his phone. He wasn't sure who to text. He'd pushed away all his friends, the only people who seemed to still care were Mr.Egbert and his son. Well, he had Mr.Egberts number, he was as god a person as any. 

He fired off a quick text, and slipped beneath the water.

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to make that flow as organically as i could, it was written all in one go. it was gonna be something different, the death was going to be something different, but in talking to a friend we figured this would work much better. maybe ill write what it was going to be originally some day. no idea if i got basiliar skull fractures right, but i tried my best  
> hope you enjoyed, please feel free to leave criticisms if youve got em! 
> 
> (sinking by feverkin was on loop the whole time i wrote this)  
> ((and yeah, bro killed himself, but if i might make this into a multi chapter thing where bro attempts to haul himself out of debt while depressed and emotionally repressed, maybe meeting someone, maybe fucking that up and finding someone else or something if theres any interest, let me know!! id edit this chapter to reflect the change in storyline. yeah i know im not the most reliable when it comes to chapter posting but aberrant is currently in a notebook, lost somewhere in boxes still, this is stored up in my noggin))
> 
> -Dima


End file.
